Hard Cold Truth
by RolledupinOne
Summary: Despite struggles after the battle, families from Hogwarts found peace. Soon their own children are attending the school of wizarding, including both Harry's and Draco's children. When Scorpius disappears from the school second semester, parents figure he's been transferred. However, a chance meeting between old enemies brings Harry to realize the tragedy of the reality.
1. Chapter 1

**AU:** _First off, just want to say I'm am still writing my Maleficent story, and it isn't going to be stopping in the foreseeable future. This is just an added project._

_Secondly, if you've read my Maleficent story, expect this one to be very different. It's definitely got more serious themes and it's much darker. _

_Also, thanks so much to **FanOfRandomThings** for co-writing and help on this story. Your help with ideas, and writing is very helpful._

_Lastly, this story is kinda one-shotish, but I might expand it depending on comments, favorites, and follows :) I have a fully developed plot in mind which I could use (and make the story a little less sad) but I'd like to see what people think first. _

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It was a dark, cloudy day and the sky threatened the shoppers with a blizzard. Despite the occasional sprinkle, however, no storm had drenched Diagon Alley in more icy snow. Harry, for one, hopped the relatively peaceful weather held up for a few minutes more at least.

Ducking into the nearby toy shop, Harry grabbed a talking doll and handed over the money before stuffing it in his coat. Then, with a skyward glance, Harry hurried toward some nearby transportation. He'd never be forgiven for being late to the birthday party, but perhaps the expensive gift would make up for it if he was only moments late and he explained the traffic due to the upcoming storm.

Deciding to take a short cut, Harry took a deep breath, scanned the area, then hurried through a rarely used back alley. Harry's pace was fast. So fast, in fact, that he almost didn't notice the shape of a crumpled form until he'd practically stepped on it.

With a gasp, Harry wheeled backwards. Seeing as the form hadn't really moved, Harry suddenly felt sick wondering if this had been some vagabond wizard whose time had run out. A closer inspection revealed that the form was indeed breathing, however shallowly.

Harry's gut told him to flee the alley and stay away from this likely dangerous and homeless person, yet Harry's good nature strongly disagreed. With a light, gentle movement of his foot, Harry carefully turned the person over, prepared to flee if this was a trick. When the person, obviously unconscious, turned over and Harry saw how underfed and hollowed the person's cheeks were, he didn't hesitate to drop to the ground. Putting one hand on the person's shoulder, Harry leaned the man against the wall. Finally he fully took in the man's appearance, and he did not like what he found.

Indeed this man was far too thin, and fading scars rippled over his pale face. That wasn't what disturbed Harry most of all, however.

An easily recognizable shock of platinum blonde hair, interspersed by the occasional white, covered the man's head, as well as the beginnings of his beard.

"Malfoy?" Harry breathed; the man stirred.

The person, who Harry didn't want to believe was Malfoy, moaned softly. His eyelids struggled to open, and when they did, they shot open as fast as the cry shot from Malfoy's lips.

"Potter!" It was a very soft cry, and if Harry hadn't been straining his ears he wouldn't have heard it.

Malfoy's eyes were wide, in fact they were nothing short of frightened, and he did his best to scramble backwards, although the wall kept him pinned.

"Malfoy?" Harry repeated skeptically, and the blonde haired man's eyes flicked to the end of the alley as if searching for an escape.

"Get- Get out of here! Get away from me!" The man's choked cries were positively desperate, but Harry only gulped, shaking his head.

"What happened to you? What happened to your family?" Harry watched as Malfoy gasped for breath, his terror turning to sorrow. His next gasp was a sob. He turned his face, pressing it against his shoulder and squeezing his eyes shut against emotion of any shape or form.

"Draco, what's wrong?" Harry tried, and suddenly the other man's head shot up, his eyes dangerous.

"Don't call me that. I don't deserve it. I'm a Malfoy and I always will be."

Harry shook his head, bewildered, but checking over Malfoy made Harry gulp.

"What happened?" Harry repeated more sternly, and when he didn't get a response he shook the other man lightly.

Malfoy shied from the touch, but finally he began to speak.

"You don't want to hear," he told Harry. "And you're better off not knowing. You wouldn't understand. You shouldn't have to understand. Why don't you just leave me alone. Just leave me here to rot, Potter. I don't want anything to do with you."

"I thought we were beyond this petty fighting, Malfoy?" Harry gently replied, and another sob escaped the man before he turned away.

"Please, just leave!"

A cough suddenly escaped the blonde man, and Harry frowned when a tiny splotch of red flew from Draco's mouth to land on the filthy ground. Raising his hand, more red was coughed into it.

"You're injured. You're sick!"

"There's no reasonable cure," Draco replied.

"Please, just tell me what happened. I might be able to help!"

"You wouldn't understand!"

"I might!"

"Fine. Then understand this! I hope my wife and my son are dead. Do you understand that?"

"No," Harry replied uneasily, staring into Draco's grey, sunken eyes.

"Just leave me here. Just get out of here. Go on!"

"Draco?"

"Don't call me that!"

"Alright. Malfoy, please. Why would you wish that?"

Malfoy shook his head, turning it away in a feeble attempt to hide the tears that were soundlessly leaking from his eyes.

"You should get out of here, now. What if they're tracking me? What if they know I'm talking to you? What if they take advantage of the situation?"

"They?" Harry asked.

"Once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater. That's the cold hard truth, Potter. That's what I found out."

"They're gone, practically!"

"Practically, they are. They are also quite practical about tying up loose ends."

"They attacked you?" Harry studied Malfoy's reaction, and the man gave a deep sigh, ending in a dry sob.

"They should have attacked me," his voice was low. "I wish they had attacked me. But they are ruthless, Potter. They are ruthless, and they are cowards."

"They attacked your-"

"Yes."

Harry was silent, his opening and closing his mouth several times as he searched for the right words. Of course, there were no right words, for the situation was so twisted and so wrong.

"I'm-" Harry began, but Malfoy cut him off.

"Don't be sorry. It doesn't do anyone any good."

"When your son didn't come back to school for a second semester first year, we thought you'd taken him out while there was still time to transfer him." Harry tried to continue, but he found something in his throat was lodged there and trapped his pipes.

"I would never have transferred him from there. I'm sorry you think so little of me."

"When?"

"During the break, of course. Not that long ago, was it? What, two weeks? I was out buying last minute Christmas presents. I was only gone about two hours, but it was long enough... The house, it was ransacked. I could tell something was wrong when all the lights were off. I got inside, and it was all tatters, and broken glass, and stuffing from the couches, and slashed pictures, and punctured walls, and torn up carpeting, and splintered wood and..." Malfoy trailed off with a sob, and this time Harry patted his shoulder.

"If we'd known, if you'd come for help-"

"You would be dead," Malfoy finished for him. "There was one poor kid they left there. The son of two of them, believe it or not. He was terrified, but he tried not to show it.

"He told me that I wouldn't be seeing them again, my wife and son I mean. He told me they were gone and that if I got help, my rescuer would be gone as well. He told me that I had obligations and that I was bound by rules and regulations that I'd sworn to. He told me that I was still a Death Eater, and that if I was smart I wouldn't forget it.

"He said that they might be undercover, but they aren't gone. Now they just have to be 'sneaky'. Now they need me back. He said that I didn't have to come with him, but I wasn't to be seen talking to anyone other than a pure blood unless it was as a last resort, and then it wasn't to be in a friendly way. He claimed that they are watching me.

"Maybe they're watching me right now! Maybe they see me in this alley and maybe they will grant my last wish; that my wife and son are dead. Because otherwise, Potter, the situation would be more than just unbearable."

Harry glanced back and forth, up and down the alley, nervous after the other man's speech. However, there were no creeping shadows or unscrupulous figures meaning the two men harm.

"You ran?" Harry asked.

"Of course. I wasn't going to hurt that poor kid. I wasn't going to put any one in danger by talking to them. I was not, under any circumstances, going to follow that kid, either."

"You've been here for two weeks? Have you eaten anything?"

Malfoy looked away.

"Your wand?"

"They broke it."

Harry was silent.

"Aren't you going to leave me here? It's for your own good. It's for your family's good," Malfoy stared deep into Harry's eyes.

"Look, Draco- and yes I'm going to call you Draco- I won't leave you here. You're coming with me."

"No."

"Yes, you are. That wasn't all that happened, and I know it. Tell me the rest."

Draco looked away again.

"Tell me, Draco Malfoy."

"A spell."

"A spell?"

"Yes, a spell. I'm dying, Potter. Slowly, but surely. The kid cast it, then he broke down crying, and disappeared. It was still a better job than I ever did when it comes their demands for me."

"There's got to be a cure."

"I don't want to cure it."

"Draco!"

"I don't! I don't want to! They cast it this way on purpose, but I won't live up to their last taunt. I won't do it!"

"What is the cure Draco?"

"No!"

"What is the cure!" Harry shook Draco, who sighed thickly.

"I won't tell you. I won't put people in danger like that again."

"Please, Draco. Just tell me."

Draco shook, but he finally spoke softly, turning his head away.

"A mud blood's blood. To cure it, I have to consume a drop of mud blood's blood. Only a drop, mind you, but they would find the mud blood most assuredly, and so away with them for 'helping' me. I won't be responsible for it. It's better this way."

Harry sat back, trying to take it all in. Too many horrors had suddenly been forced into his life, and a pity like none he had ever felt began plummeting into his heart. It was all consuming, and staring at this pale, gaunt man made Harry's chest tighten.

To be honest, the parents had thought that the Malfoys had taken their child from the school in order to get him away from 'mud bloods'. None of them had any idea what had really happened to the family. Harry now winced at some of the comments that the parents had thrown about when it came to the Malfoy's son's disappearance.

One comment was most assuredly wrong. Draco was not just like his father. His father wouldn't have hesitated to follow the boy back to the other Death Eaters. Draco's father wouldn't have hesitated to kill a thousand 'mud bloods' if it would save his own skin.

"Draco," Harry spoke softly, "There is protection. There is surely a willing 'mud blood' out there, as you call them. They could be protected. The Death Eaters are not strong anymore. We can easily protect the 'mud blood'."

"I won't take that chance."

"Please, Draco. Don't give up. There is still hope for you, and maybe even for your family."

"Don't say that."

"If they're still alive, wouldn't you rather save them now than leave them there?"

"They aren't still alive. They're not! Don't tell me they are, please!"

"Draco, come with me. I can and will help you! Please."

"Potter-"

"My name is Harry, and you deserve to call me by that name."

"I don't deserve any such thing."

"Yes, Draco, you do."

"Potter-"

"Harry, Draco. Call me Harry."

"You can't really help me," it was a plea.

"Yes, I can. Come with me."

Finally, Draco looked at Harry with something just short of hope in his eyes. He wanted to refuse the help, the pity, but he knew he was to much of a coward to turn Harry away.

"Harry, I don't want to believe that they are alive. Believe me when I say they are better off dead. For that matter, I'm better off dead, but maybe these things can't be helped. Maybe the things that people are better off with are always the very things that allude them."

"I'll take you back to my home. We'll warm you up and get some food in you."

"I don't want your pity, Potter... Harry. I don't want anyone's pity."

"And I won't give you pity, but I'll give you help."

And then Harry put his arm around Draco, easily lifting him to his feet. Then the two old enemies stumbled from the alley. Their hope and purpose: that they could escape the death that had taken captive their lives.

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**AU: **_I know, sad! I don't usually write sad stuff so this was unusual for me, hope it was okay! Please fav, follow, and tell me what you think! I'll expand the story out of a oneshot depending :) If I do, don't give up, things'll lo_

_ok up!_


	2. Chapter 2

The house was so similar to how he'd imagined it, that Malfoy was taken aback by the neat little garden surrounded by the white picket fence. The thatched roof looked cozy sitting atop the Tudor house with frosted window panes and wooden shutters.

The cobble stone pathway up to the wooden door had tiny mosses growing up among the stones; however it was all quite perfect and orderly, as if the mosses were meant to be growing there and the owners of the house wouldn't have it any other way.

Inside, the sound of happy children singing and laughing echoed, causing Potter to hesitate.

"Stay right here, don't you dare move."

Malfoy watched as Potter hurried inside, and then the children's voices slowly faded. Then, Potter came back to retrieve the frail man, helping him inside. Inside the house was empty, and just as cozy as it had been outside if not more. The two had entered a living room, and Malfoy was lowered to a scarlet, plushy couch lined with embroidered cushions. There was blanket sitting there, and Harry nodded toward it. Slowly, Malfoy draped it over his shoulders.

"Stay here, don't move."

"I won't," Malfoy sighed. He hadn't the last dozen times he'd been instructed not to, had he?

Potter reappeared moments later with a bowl filled with soup, and he handed it to Malfoy.

"Eat slowly," was the instruction, and Malfoy accommodated.

"What is this?" he asked, and Potter sighed.

"It's called chicken broth. It's supposed to help people who are sick."

"Oh," Malfoy swallowed some soup.

"So, you said you never told anyone about anything. What happened to your house?"

"We lived in the country, you know. It's not as if anyone would notice that I've been missing. Our house elf had disappeared."

"Your parents?"

At first, Malfoy scoffed, but then he hesitated.

"They wouldn't have noticed?"

"I wasn't scheduled to contact them for another two months of so. They may have wondered on Christmas, though. Sometimes I contact them then…" Malfoy trailed off, and Harry paused.

"Draco, have you had any contact with anyone since that night?"

Malfoy hesitated before shaking his head.

Potter sighed deeply, bringing his knuckle to his face and gulping, before turning his eyes again to the blonde man.

"A couple of friends of mine are here, and one of my friends would like to, uh, see if your illness is what you were told."

"A friend of yours?"

"Yes, you knew her."

Malfoy hesitated, then he stood.

"I need to leave this instant. I'm… I shouldn't have… I need to leave, now!"

His voice was sharp, commanding, but Potter shook his head.

"My house is under strict protection by the ministry. I can grantee you that everyone here is safe."

Malfoy's eyes continued to drift toward the door, then he nodded.

"I believe you," he told Potter, who stiffened. "What?"

"Nothing," Potter said a moment later. "Here's my friend."

Granger stepped through the doorway, her face hesitant though a flick of her eyes to Potter, her resolve hardened.

"I heard," she said quickly. "Harry thought I should make sure that you're telling the truth; about the illness, not the other part."

Malfoy glared at her, but said nothing as she pointed her wand at him and then closed her eyes. With a gasp, she stumbled backward, then turned to Harry.

"He's… He's telling the truth," she choked out, Malfoy's eyes flicked away nervously.

There was a noise in the house, and a woman's voice called.

"Yes, we'll be done soon," Potter replied. Then, to Malfoy he said: "It's my daughter's birthday."

Malfoy said nothing, he simply concentrated on his hands.

"So," Granger spoke up. "It's true that the only cure is to, uh, consume a drop of blood from a human or someone like me. There's more, however."

Malfoy looked up sharply. When no one said anything, he frowned.

"Yeah? More?"

"I'm not completely sure, actually. It's such dark magic that, well I'm not really sure."

"Hermione?" Harry asked nervously, and she gulped.

"Well, it's possible that… I'm not sure, alright, I could be wrong-"

"That would be a first," Malfoy muttered under his breath.

"It's possible," Hermione continued, "That there is much more to the curse. For example, I'm getting a feeling that something would happen to the person who, well, donated to this cause."

"Meaning?" Malfoy asked sharply.

"I can't be sure what, but there's something in this magic that has a backlash; you know, where its effects with lash back at those who try to help. That's what made me stumble, the curse keeps me from knowing everything about it."

"Okay, anything else?" Harry asked.

"Yes, but I'd rather say it to Harry alone in case I'm wrong," Hermione turned to Harry, who muttered a soft 'excuse us', and then the two disappeared into a nearby room. Malfoy glanced at the family portraits lining the walls, the doilies on the tables, the piano in the corner, and then he concentrated on his hands again.

There was a sharp gasp from the other room, then quiet talking, and Malfoy's gaze sneaked upward as Harry and Hermione again reentered the living room.

"We could be wrong, do not take false hope, or go the other way," was all that Harry said, and so Hermione continued.

"This curse connects you to someone else. That means that if you should live, the other person will live, and if you should die…."

"Who is this other person?" Malfoy asked slowly.

"It is someone quite young. I can't be sure, for sure, but it is someone related to you."

"Young, and related to me?"

"That's all I know."

"There is only one young person who is related to me. Being who you are, I'm sure you know who that is," Malfoy spat at Hermione, who glanced down at her feet.

"You're saying that he's alive right now?"

"It would seem so," Harry nodded slowly.

"And if I die?"

"He will too."

"He's alive?"

Harry nodded.

With no warning, Malfoy stood. Turning, he ran down the hall into the bathroom at the end, where he disappeared, the door shutting behind him.

"Daddy?" a little voice spoke up, and Harry glanced down abruptly.

"What are you doing in here, Lily?" Harry gasped at seeing his daughter.

"I was thirsty, so I came to get some punch. Who was that?"

"You go back outside to your mummy. That was… That was nobody to be concerned about. Hermione, could you get her some punch?"

Hermione nodded, ushering the little girl into the kitchen while Harry turned to stare at one of his old school pictures that was mounted on the wall. They'd all been so young back then, nothing had really happened yet. Just the Chamber of Secrets, and that was hardly a prequel of the war to come.

Another school picture that Ginny had posted sat beside the first. It was a panorama of the school's faculty and board members from the early years. Harry's gaze traveled over the picture, settling on several people in particular.

"I'm… Sorry about that," a voice behind Harry spoke quietly.

Turning, Harry saw that Draco had reappeared on the couch, his face angled toward the door once more.

"You've had no contact with your parents?" Harry asked, and Draco shook his head, his expression a display of annoyance.

"I've said that before."

"Do you realize they couldn't contact you? They wouldn't have been able to find you?"

Draco looked bored, but Harry continued.

"You also had a spell placed on yourself that makes you untraceable; no one would be able to track you."

"That's not possible. That kid said they'd be watching me."

"You said he was just a kid, you were just a kid."

"What are you saying?"

"Perhaps he didn't complete his task quite as he'd been instructed to? They don't seem to learn about instructing young boys to complete such 'important' tasks."

"No one could track me? Not even them?"

"No one, not even the ministry."

"Then how did you find me?"

"It was quite by accident, I assure you," Harry felt a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"No one could track me?"

"I've said that before," Harry replied.

Draco blinked once.

"That means no one can track _him."_

Harry knew perfectly well who _him _was, and Harry nodded.

"Then how am I supposed to find him?"

"I honestly think you should go talk to your parents."

Draco frowned at the idea.

"Why?"

"I just have a feeling."

Draco hesitated, and Harry nodded. It wasn't that Harry particularly encouraged his old enemy to associate with his parents, but he had this feeling….

"I don't want to," Draco murmured so softly that Harry wondered if he'd really said anything.

"Look, do you need anything before you go?"

Moments later, Harry realized the faultyness of that question, and he nodded in understanding when Draco sent a glare at him.

Harry could be sure that Draco's parents prided themselves with cleanliness, with honor, and with strength. The skinny, dirty, rumpled man who hadn't had a shower in three weeks and had run from his problems was not quite a good example of what Draco's parents would expect of their full grown son.

"Well," Harry spoke slowly. "I still think you should go there. Here's some floo powder. We use that over there."

"Is there any way to start tracking me?" Draco asked abruptly, and Harry paused.

"Well, I suppose, but they wouldn't be able to, because you'd have to be in the room for a tracking spell to be cast."

"Okay then," Draco nodded, standing but making no move to go anywhere.

"Okay," Harry nodded, confused, and then Draco nodded at him. "What?"

"You can do it."

"Do what?"

"Start tracking me."

Harry paused, did Draco want him to start tracking him, or did he simply expect that Harry would want to track him since the Ministry couldn't?

"Well, I suppose," Harry nodded, deciding it might be best to track Malfoy either way. Pulling out his wand, Harry watched as Draco closed his eyes. Then, with a sigh, Harry cast a tracking spell.

"Okay," Harry nodded. "It's done. Good luck."

Draco said nothing, though he gave Harry a look. Then he was gone.

Hermione entered the room quickly, glancing at Harry questioningly.

"He's gone to see his parents."

"You think they'll be there, don't you? Scorpius and Astoria?"

"I don't know."

"You know, I hope they are."

"You know, I do too."

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**AU:** _So, thank you to **Durin'sFolk **for the review last chapter. Others, please tell me what you think. It really helps me know what I should change, or do with this story. Also provide inspiration for more :)_**  
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	3. Chapter 3

**AU: **_So, I was seriously debating to whether to follow Harry or Draco in this chapter. Then I decided, what the heck? So the first part of the chapter is Harry and the second is Draco. _

_Until at the bottom!_

* * *

A few moments after Draco disappeared, there was a soft noise at the doorway, and the two friends turned to see Ron standing there, grinning.

"So," Ron raised an eyebrow. "You're abandoning my sister and I with babysitting duties after all? And what is this I hear about some strange man? An old friend come to visit? Lilly certainly seems to think that's who he is. Where is the chap anyway?"

"He was hardly an old friend," Hermione sighed.

"However," Harry quickly picked up, "He needed help, and I don't think he's out of the woods yet. They won't give up so easily. They're almost exterminated, but clearly they've been meeting somewhere without the Ministry knowing."

"Wait a minute," Ron's grin faded. "Just who came to visit a few moments ago?"

"Ron, I'm going outside to look after the kids. Perhaps Harry and you should talk, though," Hermione turned to Harry, who sighed.

"Gee thanks," Harry mumbled as Hermione quickly exited the room leaving Ron to blink a few times as he tried to figure out what was going on.

"Come, sit," Harry sat himself at the couch and motioned for Ron to join him.

"Okay, what's going on?" Ron demanded, perching upon the couch uneasily.

"Do you remember when Scorpios went missing from school and everyone thought he'd been transferred?"

"Of course. We were bloody lucky to be rid of the little scorpion!" Ron retorted.

"Well he wasn't transferred," Harry continued calmly.

"Eh?"

"He and his mother were attacked."

"Attacked?" Ron repeated. "What, Malfoy go bloody loony and go after his own family?"

"No," Harry sighed. "Not even close. You see, Ron, I ran into a fellow today who was huddled in a snowy alley. The man was half starved, hadn't eaten in two weeks you understand. His home had been destroyed by some group of Death Eaters who apparently haven't yet been caught, so he was on the streets."

"Poor bloke; what'd you do?"

"I found out it was Draco Malfoy."

"You... What?"

"His son didn't return to Hogwarts because, over the winter break, Scorpius and Astoria were attacked by Death Eaters while Draco was out buying Christmas presents. When Draco returned home, his wife and son were gone, and his wand was broken. He was cursed, then told that if he was to seek out help that things would only get worse."

Ron was silent for a moment, then he simply shook his head skeptically.

"And I suppose he told you all this?" Ron spat.

"Yes, yes he did," Harry nodded seriously. "What?"

"He's having you on one! That wouldn't happen! He's got to be lying."

"Why would he lie?"

"I don't know! Why did he ever do anything?"

"Ron, it was obvious he hadn't eaten or showered in weeks. Do you honestly think that Malfoy, of all people, would go to such lengths for some scheme or something?"

"Who knows what he'd do!"

"He was telling the truth."

"Okay, say that he was? What are we supposed to do? Where is he now, anyway? He scamper off into a corner to sob about his 'problems'."

"Ron, he was telling the truth. Why don't you believe me?"

"Oh I wonder. Now why in the world would Malfoy lie? That is a question!" Ron rolled his eyes. Suddenly, however, he seemed to notice a certain expression of Harry's face, and Ron's eyes lowered. "Look, I'm sorry mate, it's nothing against you. I just find it hard to trust that ferre-, I mean Draco. I mean, he's Malfoy! He wouldn't get attacked. He couldn't! He, of all people, wouldn't lose his family like that, you know what I mean? I mean, he's so powerful and posh and all, even now. He's just not the type to be attacked and brought down."

"Ron-"

"It just wouldn't happen! It couldn't."

"Ron, the things you said about his family when Scorpius disappeared, we thought maybe they were true. Now, I'm not so sure anymore."

"Listen, it can't be the truth! Besides, things like that don't happen anymore! I mean, families don't go missing due to Death Eater activities anymore!"

"Ron-"

"He was lying Harry. He had to be. Otherwise, do you know what this means? Previously, the ministry thought that all Death Eaters were done away with in one way or another. This means either the ministry was wrong, which is doubtful, or there is still a spy among the ministry staff after all these years. That's the only way a group of Death Eaters could ever accomplish such an act. But I don't believe it! I won't believe it!"

"Perhaps, Ron, you simply don't want to believe it," Harry spoke carefully. "You didn't even see him, Ron, you can't have known if he was lying. You don't need to feel guilty now about saying those things about his family. Just put it in the past and accept that he may need help now."

"Guilty? I don't feel guilty about one thing I said about that little ferret. Sorry, Draco I mean. Either way, where'd you say he's gone to?"

"Malfoy Manor."

"Isn't that his house?"

"No, he lives in a cottage now somewhere out in the country. It sounded as if he hadn't visited the manor in months."

"Why'd he chose to now, eh?"

"I told him to."

"What? Why would you tell him to visit that slimy father of his? Even in old age he's right awful I've heard."

"Draco lost everything that night, Ron. He's had no contact with his parents. They might think him dead. Even they deserve to know what becomes of their son. He had a no tracking spell placed upon him, you see. It would have appeared as if he was dead. Besides, with magic Hermione found out that Scorpius is at least alive somewhere. Perhaps there is hope that he is with the Malfoys rather than taken captive by Death Eaters. Or perhaps Draco's wife is there? Anyway, I think he should inform his parents of the situation."

Ron nodded once, looking halfway convinced, then he paused.

"So you told Hermione he was here, but not me? Some friend you are!"

"Well I thought you might react like you did just now."

"Well I- Harry what's wrong?"

"I don't know I... Ron, I'm not sure, but something is. I put a tracking spell on Malfoy before he left, and I shouldn't feel anything. It's not that kind of tracking spell, but I'm getting this feeling... It's odd, but it's a deep feeling of something that I know isn't mine, but I only cast a tracking spell, nothing more."

"You think something's wrong with Malfoy?"

"I don't know, but perhaps."

"So?"

"Yeah, it's okay I won't do anything about it yet, unless the feeling persists and I never get an explanation. Come on, it's time I celebrate my daughter's birthday!"

* * *

When Draco had seen Potter's cottage, immediately it had screamed the word home. Now, when Draco suddenly arrived in his own childhood home, the only word that came to mind was impersonal. Looking about the ballroom where he'd appeared, the marble floor seemed almost too shiny. It reminded him of the time he'd experimented with sliding across it in stockinged feet as a child. A none to gentle lesson from his father had taught him to never try that again.

The two heavy ballroom doors suddenly swung back to reveal a pale form in the doorway, and Draco took a single step forward, recognizing the form in seconds. The form, a woman, also took a step forward before her hands dropped limply to her side. She blinked several times, and then she ran, streaking across the ballroom and clutching Draco into a tight embrace.

"Mum," Draco held the old woman, who nodded into his shoulder.

"We were so worried! We'd been afraid that... Well we were just so afraid, the two of us. Your father was worried as well, so actually that makes three of us. Are you hurt? What kept you?"

"Three?" Draco abruptly pulled away.

"Yes, she made it Draco. She's here, she's alright, or I hope she will be."

"She?" Draco's voice shook.

"Yes, Astoria. She's been in bed for weeks now-the shock- though physically she seems to be alright."

"What about Scorpius? What of my son?" Draco looked into his aging mother's eyes, who looked away.

"Where is he? Where is he, mother?"

"You're dirty," Narcissa suddenly commented. "Before your poor old father sees you, we must get you cleaned up."

"Where is Scorpius?"

Narcissa looked away, then led her son toward a chair where they sat.

"Now, Draco, you must hear me through before you say anything, alright? Promise me you will be quiet unless I say otherwise, and you won't interrupt me? Good. Now- Wait, oh Draco, have you been a prisoner?"

Draco shook his head.

"No?"

Draco shook his head again.

"Then where have you been? Why are you so thin? Milly!"

Suddenly, a little elderly house elf came running into the room, and Draco's eyes widened.

"Master Malfoy!" The little elderly house elf, Milly, cried out. "You are here!"

Draco nodded silently, allowing the smallest of smiles to line his face. Milly had worked for the Malfoy's for quite a few years, and then when Draco had moved into his cottage with Astoria, Milly had been brought along. It wasn't until Astoria began cooking with Milly's help that Draco began to take the little house elf into consideration as anything. As time passed, Astoria began to tell Draco little tidbits of information about Milly. Draco at first disregarded most of the information, until once when Scorpius had been so ill that magic had only helped minimally. Astoria had been off visiting some old friends, so Draco was left to try and figure out a cure.

Completely lost when it came to curing the illness or helping in any way, Draco had tentatively approached the house elf. Shockingly, Milly knew just what to do, and Scorpius reported that by the next day, he was feeling much better. After that event, Draco decided that this one particular little house elf might actually be a bit more useful to the family as something more than simply a cleaning machine. Slowly, Draco warmed up to the elderly Milly, and found her to be sort of sweet.

When she had disappeared, admittedly Draco had been much more worried about his wife and son. However, seeing the worried eyes of Milly now made Draco feel a sort of gladness that she hadn't been killed by the Death Eaters.

"Master Malfoy," Milly repeated. "Dearie me, you need food right away. Shall I retriever that?"

A nod sent her running off, and Narcissa turned back to Draco.

"Where have you been?" She asked again.

"Well, nowhere really. I didn't realize that, well it doesn't matter, it's been resolved anyway. I just thought it was best I didn't come talk to you, at first, because of something they said, but it's been resolved. Now, about my-"

Draco was cut off as Milly ran into the room, carrying some soup.

"Here is some broth, it will be yummy good!"

Narcissa nodded her thanks, however Milly didn't leave.

"There's something else," she hesitated. "Master Malfoy, the elder, wants to see Master Malfoy, the not elder."

"My father?" Malfoy stammered.

"Yes, I wanted to tell him the happy news, and he wishes you come right away!"

Draco glanced to his mother, who sighed and nodded.

"Drink your soup quickly. We must hurry."

Draco nodded, gulping it down in seconds, then he stood, clutching the blanket that was still around his shoulders. Then he followed the little house elf out of the room and toward the library where his father now spent almost all of his time. The door opened easily for him to go inside, but Draco hesitated.

"Go on," his mother urged, and Draco stepped into the room.

Lucius sat huddled in a chair by the fire, and at first he seemed to not notice Draco. It always made Draco pause when he saw his father these days. He had aged dramatically, and it always shocked Draco when he remembered that his father was now a weak old man. Slowly, Lucius turned to the door, and he stared at Draco unblinkingly.

"Hello," Draco voiced softly. His father simply inclined his head. "I heard you were worried. I'm fine."

"Of course you are," his voice was softer than Draco remembered. "What is that around your shoulders?"

"Oh," Draco slipped the blanket off, crumpling it into a ball. "It's nothing."

"What was it?"

"A blanket," Draco sighed.

"From where?"

"From someone who helped me," Draco ground out. "Now I must go, I have someone I need to see."

"We couldn't trace you," Lucius ignored Draco's request to leave. "Why?"

"Because they cast a spell," Draco growled.

"Where is your wand?"

"I no longer have a wand. I'm sure you know how that feels."

"Draco!" Narcissa gasped, and he swallowed once as Lucius glanced toward his cane before letting his hand fall limply against the arm chair.

"I must be going," Draco sighed, his voice softer. "Maybe I'll come back later."

Then, without a second glance back, Draco hurried from the room.

* * *

"Where is Astoria?" Draco asked Milly the moment he exited the room. "Can you show me to her?"

Nodding, Milly lead him up a hall and toward the guest rooms. Stopping in front of one, Milly knocked twice. There was a pause, then a voice Draco recognized immediately answered to the knock.

"Come in," came the call, and the two entered the room.

Against one wall stood a gloriously curtained four poster bed. The curtains were drawn, and so Milly hurried over to them to whisper something to Astoria. Moments later, the curtains were drawn back to reveal a thin Astoria sitting in her bed, starring hopefully toward the door.

"Draco? You're here? You're alright?" She asked, and he nodded, hurrying to her side.

"You?" He asked, and she shrugged lightly.

"I was so worried. We couldn't track you; we didn't know why!"

"It was a curse placed on me, but it's alright. They can't track me either."

"Thank goodness you're alright. After what happened, I couldn't bare to think they'd laid in wait for you or something of that sort!"

"What did happen? My mother refused to tell me. She kept skirting the problem. Why isn't our son here with you?"

"I think you'd best sit," Astoria motioned to the chair that sat beside the bed. "You see, you will not like what you hear. It's best you be sitting. Now, before I tell you, please understand that Milly and I did everything we could. There was nothing else we could do; it is my sincere hope that you don't think ill of us after I tell you."

Draco nodded uneasily. Waiting for the story he had yet to be told.

"He and I were decorating the tree when I realized something had broken through the barriers we had around our home. Looking out into the yard, I saw a group of people all in black approaching. I knew something was wrong, so I hid Scorpius and Milly in the kitchen. I told Milly to get Scorpius out of there if things went wrong.

"They didn't knock, the just barged in. I wasn't sure who they were at first, but it didn't take long to figure that out. They were in quite a hurry, didn't want to be caught, and they searched the house, finding Milly and Scorpius running out the back door. They brought them in the room, but only really paid attention to Scorpius. That's when I began to realize what their plan was.

"They had two young boys with them, he immediately apparated off with one of them. I'm sorry Draco, there was nothing I could do. They had their wands trained on him until the moment he disappeared. I couldn't help him without putting him in further danger. I'm sorry, Draco."

"Just keep going," Draco gulped.

"Well, then they demanded to know where you were. I told them I didn't know. I could tell they were about to take Milly away somewhere, so in a last attempt I grabbed her and we were able to apparate just as they threw a curse at us. It just barley hit me, but your mother was able to fix it. That's all there is. I couldn't track you, and I couldn't track Scorpius, so I thought..."

"We are both untraceable," Draco breathed. "They cast a curse that sort of connect us. If I am alive, he is alive. So he is alive, Astoria, but it's impossible to track him. Not even the ministry can track him. How do we find him? We've got to find him, but I don't know how!"

Astoria shook her head.

"I suppose I am relieved," she said softly. "But at the same time, I don't know how to find him either. I don't know what to say."

A noise a the door made Draco turn to find his mother standing there.

"Draco," her voice was stern. "I need to speak to you."

Draco hurried off after her, stepping into the hall and waiting for her to speak.

"Draco, I realize that things have been rough between your father and you, but what you said before, it was taking things too far. He is old now, you must realize that! You must apologize to him."

Draco turned away, his mind racing beyond problems with his father. It took a moment, but quite suddenly Narcissa's face fell.

"Draco, what's wrong?" she asked, taking hold of his arm in an attempt to turn him so she could see his face and further determine the problem. "What's happened?"

"Astoria told me the truth about what happened to my son."

Narcissa's eyes widened, and she threw her arms around Draco.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, and he nodded.

"He is alive. Someone I trust was able to tell through magic, but we can't track him."

"I'm sorry," she repeated.

Draco opened his mouth to say something else, but the urge to cough bubbled up into his throat. Pulling quickly away from his mother, Draco coughed roughly into his elbow. Narcissa watched him with worried eyes, the worry turning to fear when she saw a splotch of red appear on his elbow.

"Draco?" She turned her questioning eyes to her son, and he opened his mouth to feed her some excuse, before he began coughing once again.

* * *

**AU**: _So, what's next? Please review! Also, thank you all for reviewing on the last chapters! It's your support that keeps this fic going :)_


	4. Chapter 4

Dark corners had turned into a place of escape for Draco during his sixth year. He could fade into the darkness and hide for an hour or two while he tried to clear his mind. During the summer between his sixth and seventh year, he'd discovered that the Malfoy Manor contained numerous dark corners, quite good for hiding.

Tonight, he found himself sitting in a corner he hadn't visited since he was a teen, but he found it no less comforting now.

A once plush purple chair inhibited the corner under the attic stairs where Draco sat. Many years ago he'd discovered a series of carvings and dates written into the wall, the latest one dating back to 1792. He'd left his own little inscription after 6th year; it wasn't particular cheerful, nor beneficial to the Malfoy family. Actually few of the inscriptions were. Draco wondered if the corner was magic and only admitted the troubled, for that's the conclusion the majority of the inscriptions pointed to. If so, it was comforting to know he wasn't the first Malfoy that questioned the natural order.

Today, his eyes were drawn to one written in 1657:_ If thou trusted thine friends, and they are a bit like mine, never turn thineself to them again. If thou hated thine enemies, and they are a bit like mine, run to them. I would, if I had time. I don't. Don't let thineself be trapped as I am.-R.M._

In his post 6th year summer, that inscription had captivated Draco. Now he found himself again starring at at. The line between friends and enemies was all too blurred, but he needed to find aid soon. His mother still didn't know the truth, but she would soon figure things out. He just had to plan before she did.

_"Family has little point, until it becomes threatened."- PM- 1599. _

'Too true,' Draco sighed, subconsciously wringing his hands.

_'Pride is a terrible thing when a young life is at stake.'- OM_

That was an interesting ideal.

Suddenly, a previously unnoticed inscription caught his eye: _'Don't let oneself become involved with mudbloods; they shall only muck up one's life as they've mucked up mine.'- 1503 PD_

When Draco turned his head, the writing seemed to shimmer out of sight, but then it shimmered back again. Directly below it, another inscription shimmered into view.

_'You're wrong, dear brother.'- Haden Malfoy._

Draco had never noticed these inscriptions before, and he ran his hands over them thoughtfully.

_'Hello'_. It appeared so suddenly on the wall that Draco physically jumped. It appeared again a few moments later_. 'Hello.'_

Reaching for his wand, and remembering what had become of it, Draco frowned. Glancing down, he discovered something that resembled a wand, but was pointed at the end, sitting at his feet. Slowly, Draco carved a _'hello'_ into the wood. It hovered there a few moments before disappearing.

_'Well, who dost we hast here?_' appeared in a flash.

Draco hesitated, before writing his name and returning the question.

_'I wouldst be Haden Malfoy of 1520. And thy time?'_

Draco was taken aback. 1520? Was this the same Haden Malfoy as had written to PD?

_'I'm from the 21st century. How are we able to talk?'_

_"How doeth thou think thou green, hare-brain dolt? What hast become of the Malfoy house in thy dizzy time?'_

Draco was frowning, debating on whether to reply, when another inscription appeared.

_'Look, haply thou're raw 'r just quite bast'd. Eith'r way, mine apologies. Anyone who resides hither wilt hast been bast'd in one way 'r 'toth'r. So, wherefore be thou in this dreary, dreary place?'_

Draco hesitated again, but he had to admit some curiosity about this Haden person. He seemed a Malfoy through and through, yet he seemed to have stood up for mudbloods, and surprising he'd actually apologized. Considering Draco's current situation, he had a tad of curiosity about why one would stand up for mudbloods.

_'I'm in trouble,'_ Draco finally scratched. _'My son and I are ill. The only way to cure this illness is to, essentially, kill a mudblood.'_

_'So what's the problem?'_ Haden replied.

Draco frowned for a moment.

_'In another inscription it sounded as if you didn't hate mudbloods.'_

_'Oh I don't hate them, and I'm not cut-throat like mine fath'r. Mine broth'r Pluton almost wed one such; he got disinh'rit'd of course. Nay, the nasty dram things art not despicable, they're just addlepates. They art quite so since a few got past a barri'r and start'd writing about this world. I ask thou, wherefore wilt they invade our privacy, then go tell all their world? Nay mattereth, howev'r, they've all been caught. '_

_'In any case, it's not as though thine choice shall be a difficult one. Unless, of course, thou befriend one such prison'r and she starts filling thou mind.'_

_'Prisoner?'_ Draco replied.

_'Of course. Don't telleth me thine hast stopp'd keeping them in the dungeon?'_

_'It's a cellar.'_ Draco wrote it before he'd even given it a thought. Suddenly his stomach began to turn. Had they routinely kept prisoners in the cellar? Had it been a real dungeon? It would be like 7th year everyday!

_'My, times do change. Yea Schlange of 1799 said they had mudbloods in the dungeon. What passed? Did they all escape again?'_

Draco blinked several times, swallowing thickly. What had happened to the innocent seeming 'you're wrong brother' boy he'd meant to talk to? Draco never replied, so finally Haden began to write again.

_'Pardon if I've gasted thou off. __I was just surpris'd is all; if thou nay long'r keeps mudbloods, haply thou don't feeleth as openly excit'd to kill them? Schlange wasn't. He said he might yea changeth it! Haply he did. In that case, do thou know any mates? Haply thou shouldst seek the counsel from one of thy own age. I've only ev'r talk'd to one oth'r from such an age as yours. Haply thou've heard of him? Lucius? He only talk'd once. He did not seem the type to lounge in holes like us 'inf'ri'r' Malfoys. He said he was angered because a mudblood once got promot'd in their first year on the job whilst he had been thither two years. Do thou knoweth of this man?'_

Draco didn't reply.

_'Well, if thou've gone, then so be it. All I might sayeth is to speak with a p'rson of thy age that might be willing to help thou. Goodbye thou dolt. '_

Nothing else appeared on the wall, so Draco sat in the dark in silence. He felt the pointed wood disappear from his palm, and he closed his hand stiffly.

The urge to cough bubbled in his throat, but he was just able to push it away. However, a sudden pain exploded in the back of his head. Gasping, Draco folded in half, one hand flying to his feathery hair. A thought crossed his mind, but he pushed it away; it was a stupid idea. However, the thought was persistent, and his mind couldn't put it down.

It wasn't only his life on the line; it was his son's life as well.

Potter had claimed that he had protection provided by the ministry. However much he despised the idea, Draco wondered if Potter would even consider helping him.

No, he wouldn't, Draco was sure. Yet then again, he was a bloody Gryffindor back in the day. He'd saved him from the fire-breathing room during the wizarding battle at Hogwarts. He wasn't a 'mate', but he at least had a partial idea what Draco was up against; better than Haden anyway.

Deciding to think on it, Draco exited the space below the stairs. As he strode toward the bedrooms, Draco felt another sting at the back of his head. Gasping, Draco grasped for the wall in hopes of regaining his balance. Unfortunately, his limbs felt like jelly and he collapsed to the floor in a heap. Before he blacked out, Draco spotted his mother rooted at the other end of the hall.

* * *

A warm smell met Draco as his eyes fluttered open. In a moment, he recognized the smell as warm honey-buns, a meal Milly had cooked for Scorpius when he was ill. Indeed, Milly stood by the door, while Narcissa sat by Draco in a chair. When she saw he was awake, she grasped his hand.

"Draco," her voice was stern. "You must tell me the truth. I have disproved your claim that you were healing from a muggle illness. What has happened to you?"

Draco blinked, confused. What did just happen? As if reading his thought, his elderly mother continued.

"It took several house elves to move you to this bed after you fainted in the hallway. It is a curse, is it not?"

"It is," Draco murmured. "I know how to cure it."

"Wonderful!" Her eyes lit up. "How? Why haven't you already? Surely if it can be cured, we should do so immediately. Why didn't you ask for help?"

"Indeed," Draco's voice was soft. "I should have. It's my own son's life at stake. Pride is a terrible thing, when a young life is at stake."

"Scorpius?" Narcissa sat back, confused.

"Yes, I must go. I must go visit the only one who can help my son. I've done to much- No, this family has done too much. He'll know what to do."

"You're talking gibberish. Sit down, Draco," Narsissa protested as her son stood up and tried to make his way towards the door.

"No. I'm sorry, mother, but I think I have to. I don't think there's another choice, is there?"

"Please, sit! I don't know what you speak of, but we'll figure it out!" Narsissa reached for Draco, who stepped out of reach.

"Goodbye, I hope I see you again at least," Draco looked deeply into his mother's eyes, and then he left the room, his mother staring after him in shock.

Draco heard her hurry after him, but he was still faster. He was surprised to find his father sitting in the ballroom, reading a book. Looking up, his eyes widened.

"What in the blazes do you think you're doing?" He hissed as Draco grabbed for some flu powder. Without a reply, Draco stepped into the fireplace and disappeared.

* * *

"Thank you Aunt Hermione! It's so pretty!"

"You're very welcome," Hermione smiled warmly down at the little girl who held her brand new pink dress up to herself.

"Can I go wear it right now, mummy?" Lilly turned to Ginny, who glanced at Harry and then nodded. Excitedly, Lilly ran off into the house.

"Can I go play on the muggle slide again da?"

"Of course; go have fun," Ron nodded at his son, then turned back to Harry.

"Well, she's a whole year older, Lilly."

"Yeah, she is. It's amazing. Albus will be celebrating his birthday at Hogwarts in a month. I'll need to send him something. Anyway, thanks for coming Hermione, Ron. I know this was just a little get together, but considering the holidays were just a couple weeks ago, I knew people would still be busy."

"Hey, you're not throwing us out yet are you Harry? I'm planning on having a few more slices of cake! It may be getting to their bed time, but the kids can stay up while I have some more cake!" Ron declared, and Hermione rolled her eyes a little.

"Who's that?" Hugo asked suddenly from the tall metal slide, and Harry spun to look at the screen door, and his eyes widened.

"What's he doing here again? How did he get in here? How-" Ron went on, but Harry shushed him as he stared at Malfoy, who was leaning in the door-frame, one hand plastered to his head, his eyes screwed closed.

"Excuse me," Harry muttered, hurrying toward the unexpected visitor. He assumed that Malfoy had figured out that, for about two hours give or take, Harry had opened his flu to Malfoy Manor. Malfoy had gotten to the cottage with about five minutes to spare. But why had he returned? Why would he? Had his father told him to get over here with some sort of plot? His father was old now, but Harry wouldn't put anything past him. Taking a deep breath, Harry decided to get to the bottom of this unexpected arrival.

"Here sit down," Harry pulled Malfoy into the cottage and onto a couch. "Are you alright? What happened?"

Malfoy opened his mouth, but in a moment it drew back in a grimace exposing his tightly clenched teeth. Frowning, Harry briefly wondered if it was all an act, he wouldn't put dramatics past Malfoy, but for some reason he thought it might not be, and it almost frightened him.

"What's happened? What happened when you went to your parent's manor?"

"I told my mother," Malfoy forced out. "And I think it's getting worse. I wouldn't have come back, you know, except…" he paused. "Except you said there's protections here, if I was to… To cure it. And you know, it's not me!"

"What isn't?" Harry asked, confused.

"It's Scorpius!" Malfoy choked out. "Where ever he is, he's the same as me! I guess I… I don't want the last Malfoy to die, you know?... I don't want him to die."

"He wasn't at the manor?" Harry breathed, and Malfoy shook his head slightly.

"She was, but he's missing!"

Harry assumed that 'she' was Astoria, but he felt cold knowing that a little boy, no matter who his family was, was in the hands of Death Eaters that had somehow been clever enough to stay off the ministry's radar.

"How do we find him, if he's untraceable? How? What do I do?" Malfoy clutched his head again, slumping slightly, and Harry found himself gulping. Obviously Malfoy had gotten significantly worse. Perhaps we had been too weak to flu, and it had worsened his condition? Or perhaps something was happening to Scorpius to make Draco worse? No matter the situation, Scorpius was somewhere, perhaps quite far away, and the only way to insure his life would be to cure Draco. Then they could try to find the first year boy.

"Listen, Draco," Harry sighed. "You just lay down here; I need to talk to my friends. Don't move."

"Listen Potter," Draco managed a miniscule grin. "If I was going to move when you told me not to, I would have done it by now."

Harry managed a tight smile, before he hurried outside.

* * *

**AU: **_First off, thank you to the readers that have been reviewing; you keep me writing this. Next, please review! I love follows and favorite, because it tells me that you're reading, but reviews are truly inspiration to keep writing. Please, please review with a sugar straw on top! :)  
_

_By the way, do you think I should write a little bit about Scorpius' situation and what's going on with him? Don't worry, it won't change the rating or anything like that. Please tell me what you think! _


	5. Chapter 5

**Important AU**: _So the beginning of this chapter does contain some violence. I don't rate it above a T rating because it definitely isn't violent violence. The only reason I'm really putting this warning here is because the violence happens to a child, so that can change how people view of violence. _

_The only 'violent' things, however, is very mild verbal abuse, and causing someone to hit their head. So, nothing really bad. _

_Also, I couldn't really find that much info on Scorpius's personality beyond people's speculations, so this is my speculation of his personality. What do you think?  
_

* * *

Darkness. Night. Hiding under the counter in the kitchen. A scream. Angry voices. Trying to run away. Arms hurt. A pop of light, and then nothing. Nothing, until now.

Blinking, the small framed blonde boy shivered in the cold. It was cold, freezing in fact, but where was he?

Disoriented and confused, the boy blinked again, and then realized he was sitting on something hard like the cobblestones of Diagone Alley, but much flatter. He was leaning against the same hard, flat stone. It reminded him of the flatness of wood, but much colder. In the darkness of wherever he was, it looked grey.

Looking around, the boy suddenly jumped backwards, trying to press himself against the wall in back of him. A person was standing just a few feet away outside of bars that lined the front of wherever he was. The person was just standing there, but when the boy jumped, the person knelt down quickly, silently.

Clearing his throat, the boy took a shuddering breath. Then he tried to speak, but found he had a sore throat. Ignoring it, he croaked out his question anyway.

"What's going on?" He asked the person who, come to think of it, didn't look particularly old. In fact, the person looked about the same age as some of the 6 years at the school the boy attended. When the older boy didn't reply, the younger continued. "Who're you? Why am I here? What is this place?"

When the older boy-who sported dark brown hair, dark pants, and a dark green sweater- still didn't reply, the small blonde boy gulped, growing nervous.

"What's going on? Why am I here? Where's my father? Where's mummy?"

"You're mummy isn't here, Scorpius Malfoy," a new voice made the boy look up quickly. A second teenage boy had emerged from what appeared to be a doorway off to the left. The boy kneeling in front of the bars stood, facing the second boy.

"Hey, why don't you keep your mouth shut? We're only here to feed him. Leave him alone."

"You're one to talk," the other boy sneered.

Scorpius watched the exchange with wide, confused eyes. He hadn't the slightest idea what was going on, but he didn't like it one bit. One minute he was decorating the Christmas tree, the next he had been placed in this dark, freezing world with nothing he recognized.

"Who're you?" He asked again, shivering. "Why do you know my name?"

"Oh we know everything about you, you little brat," the second boy, who wore a black sweater, sneered.

"Stop it," green sweater snarled. Grabbing a bag from black sweater's arms, he marched forward and snatched some keys from his pocket. Using one of the keys, he opened up a large, barred door that Scorpius previously hadn't noticed and slowly walked toward the smaller boy.

"Here, food. You've been asleep for a long time, I'll bet your hungry?"

"You shouldn't leave the door open, he might run away and then what'll we do? Well, actually I guess you know all about what happens when you let people get away, don't you Prenn?"

"We aren't supposed to say our real names!" Prenn frowned angrily, but the other boy simply leaned causally against the bars, smirking.

"I ask you, who would ever find out from this kid? It's not like he's got long anyway."

Prenn turned away with a huff, extracting some bread, cheese, and meat easily recognizable as chicken from the bag.

"Hey, where'd the meat come from? That wasn't supposed to be in there!" The black sweatered boy frowned, but Prenn appeared unconcerned.

"Who would ever find out from this kid anyway?" Prenn sneered. Then he handed the food to Scorpius, who eyed it suspiciously.

"Why am I down here?" Scorpius asked again, momentarily ignoring the food, and Prenn sighed.

"Look, kid, just eat it before anyone else gets down here and takes it away. After all, you're supposed to be hungry after a sleeping spell!"

"Sleeping spell?" Scorpius asked, timidly munching the chicken. He didn't mind Prenn, but he flinched backwards when the other teen answered.

"Yeah, sleeping spell. You have any idea how long you've been here? Two weeks. That's right; you should be rattled; shaking in your boots, in fact. Then again, maybe you should just forfeit being afraid and accept your new home."

"My what?" Scorpius almost dropped the food, gulping what he had in his mouth and turning to Prenn, who grumbled something under his breath.

"Where's my father? Where's my mum?" Scorpius demanded with a bravado he didn't feel, but it was met with the mocking laughter of the black sweatered boy. Biting his lip to keep it from quivering, he turned to Prenn, who simply stood up and leaned against the wall, arms crossed.

Scorpius eyed the two, his hands shaking, but the black sweatered boy's eyed snapped toward the blonde.

"Well, keep eating. We don't have all day! There'll be people down here soon; you need to be done by then, or you'll be sorry."

Confused, and now quite frightened, Scorpius, tried to force himself to eat the food, but it was slow going- too slow for the other teen, anyway.

"Go on, get going!" The other teen threw a curse to Scorpius's left, and he looked to Prenn nervously, though the other teen was busy examining his sweater. Breathing hard, Scorpius finished quickly, just as a noise was heard from the left doorway, and the other boy gave a sigh of relief.

"Just in time. Come on, Prenn, get out of there."

Prenn left the cell, shutting and locking it quickly, much to Scorpius's displeasure. Somehow, Prenn made him feel just a little bit safer.

Now six dark cloaked adults entered the room, and the atmosphere immediately changed. Scorpius could swear that it had gotten colder. Wrapping his arms about himself, he pressed himself further against the wall and gulped.

"So," a silky male voice emerged from under one of the dark hoods. "This is the young Malfoy. Congratulations. He has only just awoken?"

"Yes sir," the still unnamed teen nodded once.

"Excellent, Killibard. Has he begun the process?"

"No..." Killibard trailed off uncertainty.

"It will take a little less than five minutes, twenty from when he awoke, for it to take effect," a female voice spoke up, and the man who appeared to be the leader nodded.

"Now, Scorpius Malfoy," the man turned to the blonde boy. "Are you aware of what your family name means?"

"Yes," Scorpius spoke hesitantly. His throat seemed to be hurting more. "I mean, I'm a Malfoy."

"Explain."

"Well I... I'm a pure blood?" It was really more of a question, and he received a nod. "And, and father says that a lot of Malfoys were Slytherins. And father says that Malfoys have nice things, usually. And my father says the Malfoys have a manor somewhere where he used to live, but we don't really go there anymore. And... And... My father..."

Scorpius's throat seemed constricted, but he took a deep breath as he tried to continue. However, Scorpius was interrupted.

"And are you aware that your father was a blood traitor?"

"A what?" Scorpius whimpered.

"He betrayed his people. He made an oath, and then broke it."

"My father wouldn't-," Scorpius began, but suddenly he felt like he had to cough. For a few moments he sat there with wide eyes, and then he began to cough uncontrollably.

"So, it has started," the man turned away from the cell. "Keep me informed about its progression. Also, tell me immediately if Draco Malfoy returns to the manor. It is an inconvenience that we cannot track his every move, however I doubt such an error shall again be performed." The man turned to glare purposefully at Prenn, who leveled his gaze for a moment, before focusing on the ground.

"We shall overlook this egregious error for now. I'm sure that there will be an opportunity to make up for past wrongdoings. For now, all we can do is speculate and plan.

"Now, I'm sure someone would like to volunteer to visit the manor and have a talk with the inhabitants? Excellent. Keep me constantly informed."

The majority of the group filed out of the room after the man, while the two teens stayed along with two adults.

"So, he really is ill with the same curse?" One adult, a woman, spoke, intently studying Scorpius from under her hood.

"Yes, we cast it between them. He is just as ill as his son."

"So, if something were to happen to this child, would it happen to Draco as well?"

"It would."

Scorpius was about to cough again, when the woman pointed her wand at him, and shouted a curse he didn't recognize. He felt himself shoot forward, then fall backwards again. With a cry, his head connected with the wall with a solid crack.

"There, how did that feel, Draco?" The woman sneered, then stormed from the room, closing followed by the man.

The two teens watched as the boy grasped his head, whimpers dancing from his lips.

"Come on, let's leave him here to rot," Killibard turned to Prenn, who sighed deeply.

"You go on. I'll be there in just a minute."

"Don't do anything stupid again," Killibard snarled, and then he stormed from the room with a flick of his shiny brown hair.

Scorpius was slowly recovering from the knock on the head, but now he was shivering violently as the cold seemed to seep into him. Giving another weak cough, Scorpius watched Prenn with frightened eyes.

"You're cold?" Prenn asked almost silently. Scorpius didn't reply, but looked hopeful as Prenn extracted his wand cautiously. Glancing at the door, Prenn closed his eyes in concentration; however a sound in the doorway made him pause. Opening his eyes, he had to snap his mouth shut to hide his gasp.

"And what would you be doing?" The man with the silky voice crooned, causing Prenn's eyes to narrow.

"I'm simply watching the prisoner," he replied in a voice no less silky, and the man's head tilted.

"And your wand is extracted because?..."

"I was just..." Prenn hesitated, before put on a guilty face, "I'm afraid I was just going to, er, um, have some fun, you know? I apologize, I'll be going now."

"No no," the man replied, stopping Prenn, who turned slowly. "No need to apologize. Go ahead, I won't stop you."

"No, that's alright. It seems that it isn't nearly as fun when there's someone watching. I need to be talk with-"

"Perhaps it's not fun for you, but you don't want to disappoint me a second time," the man interrupted. "I might begin to think that you purposely let Draco Malfoy wander free of the tracking curse. So I encourage you! Go ahead, show me you've got what it takes. Prove me wrong."

Prenn briefly closed his eyes, then locked his gaze with Scorpius. Swallowing thickly, Prenn again brought out his wand, throwing the same curse at Scorpius again. Again Scorpius hit his head, but this time he fell back into his previously undisturbed slumber.

* * *

"So, why's he here?"

Harry spared a glance at the comatose Malfoy, before turning back to Ron and Hermione.

"His son is missing, taken by Death Eaters."

"Impossible," Ron shook his head. "They're gone! They can't kidnap people anymore! Besides, he was a bloody Death Eater!"

"Who defected and became a traitor at the last minute, and who didn't end up in Azkaban like the rest of them supposedly did. I don't think he'd be on their 'good' list."

"But they did go to Azkaban! How would any of them not be there?"

"I was thinking about that, and it worries me greatly. There are two options here. One, these aren't official Death Eaters and instead something that was created after the war, perhaps by the Death Eaters' kids who weren't convicted or perhaps by random wizards and witches who want a cult to be in. Option two, there's somehow still a shady person working at the ministry. This person may not even be one of them, but instead might be someone who will turn a blind eye at a Malfoy being attacked. Or the person at the Ministry could be paid off not to tell about these remaining Death Eaters. It could also easily be a combination of both. Or perhaps there's something else I'm not thinking of?"

"How about that Malfoy is lying?" Ron suggested with an eye roll.

"He isn't," Hermione spoke up. "I could tell with magic that he is mortally ill, as is his son. Without a cure, there may no longer be a Malfoy line."

'_Good_,' danced on the tip of Ron's tongue, but he stayed quiet.

"So," Harry sighed. "Now what? I'm a little surprised he came back, to be honest, but he did and obviously his illness has progressed substantially. It's my feeling that something has speeded it up, perhaps something that has to do with Scorpius."

"So, the Malfoy kid is, what, connected with Malfoy health-wise?"

"Yes, Scorpius will be feeling exactly what his father is," Hermione confirmed. "I never thought I'd say this, but poor little kid. I mean, he's a first year, possibly stuck with Death Eaters, and suffering from an illness that can only be cured by his father, who may have finally grown a few morals and knows the cure is wrong."

"What's the cure again?" Ron asked after a beat. "I'll admit, I wasn't paying too much attention, but when you put it that way, Hermione..."

"He has to drink a little blood from a muggle," Harry sighed, to which Ron pulled a face.

"Disgusting," Ron shivered. "Not the muggle part, just the vampire aspect. Didn't you say that they promised to go after the muggle that healed him?"

"Yes," Harry's tone worried. "They can't track him, but who knows where they have people watching. It worries me that he got so much worse after going to Malfoy Manor."

"You don't think his parents..." Hermione trailed off.

"His mother, not a chance. His father... I'm not sure. I don't think he'd want to kill off the rest of his line, and I mean, even though I don't think he loved his son the way you and I understand, I do think he sort of cared about his son. I don't think he'd be involved in his son's and grandson's murder with Voldemort dead and no longer a threat to his own life, but you never know."

"I've heard he's really sickly now-a-days," Hermione spoke up. "Malfoy's father I mean. I heard he can hardly do anything except be wheeled around in a wheelchair or occasionally walk across a room. Hardly seems like a candidate for planning a murder, but like you said, he can't be removed from the picture."

"So, what happened to Mrs. Malfoy?" Ron spoke up. "Astoria I mean."

"Sounded to me like she's safe at the manor."

"So what, she abandoned her son?"

"I'll bet there's more to the story than that. If I can get Malfoy awake, I'll ask him about it. In the mean time, here's my question. Does he have to drink the blood of a pure muggle, no magic, or will the blood of a muggle with magic work? Or, better yet, will a muggle half blood work?" Harry turned to Hermione, who frowned. "I mean, to be honest he just said 'mudblood' to me, which in his terms could be any number of things. What kind of a 'mudblood' are we looking at here?"

"It seemed to me, when I tested the spell earlier, that it had to be a full muggle, but magic may not matter. So, technically, I could do it."

"You're not going to though!" Ron turned to her, horrified.

"Well, I've got to admit that the idea doesn't appeal to me, but if not me then who?"

The group sat in silence, when Lilly suddenly ran into the yard.

"The man is back!" She cried, and Harry nodded. Malfoy stirred when he heard the shrill voice, but he didn't wake up from his sleep like dozing.

"Your new dress looks wonderful. Now don't worry. Go back and change and you can play with Hugo," Ginny finally spoke, causing Lilly to throw a nervous glance at Malfoy, before running off to change.

"What's your opinion on this, Gin?" Ron turned to his sister. "What do you think should happen?"

"Well," she hesitated. "Scorpius is a very young boy in a lot of trouble. I'm not sure by who or how, but I think we should cure Draco Malfoy and then work from there."

"So, we get a hold of some muggle blood, cure the father, then figure out where the son is?" Harry questioned his friends.

Hermione was about to respond, when a strangled shout from inside made everyone turn.

"Come on," Harry rushed inside to see Malfoy's widened eyes as he gasped for breath between coughs and clutched at his left arm.

Harry surveyed the scene in shock, before he grabbed Malfoy's left arm and pried his right hand away. His shock turned to horror when he saw a small line of blood trailing down the arm. He was thankful that it was a relatively shallow cut- a blessing really- but nevertheless, a word carved there stood out against the dark mark.

_'Hurry'_

Hermione stared at the trickle in shock then turned to Harry alone.

"I'll cure him, if only for his son. Come on, I'll need a clean beaker. Hurry."

* * *

**AU:**_ So, as per usual, tell me what you think! Thanks for the reviews on the last chapter. I might start sending out thank you replies. We'll see :)  
_

_Also, for the sake of the story, I was wondering what you guys think Scorpius's Hogwarts house would be? I looked around for some info, and surprisingly the only thing I found was from several sources that people don't think he'd be in Slytherin. (Apparently it's possible that JK Rowling said that, but I couldn't find hard proof) So, if not Slytherin, which house do you think Scorpius Malfoy would be sorted into?  
_


	6. Chapter 6

**AU: **_So I know I let this story go for a long time, but I got no reviews on the last chapter which was rather uninspiring. This one has a cliffhanger, so I hope to get a review or two. Anyway, hope you enjoy! Also, I put Scorpius into a Hogwarts house, please tell me what you think of my decision. :) _

* * *

Scorpius was sleeping peacefully, his mind at rest, when suddenly he awoke with a cry. Blinking back tears, he grasped for his arm and swallowed hard. His head shot up to see Prenn standing outside the cell, his eyebrows drawn together in concentration and his wand withdrawn. Moments later, the older boy noticed that the blonde was awake, and a frown tipped the corners of his mouth downward.

His wand dropped abruptly to his side and, for a moment, the elder boy was silent. Then he spoke very softly.

"Sorry about that, I had to get a message to your father. If he's going to save you, he'd better hurry up and do it. I may not care much what happens to you, but I'm not going to let my family or fellow people break their promise; it would defeat the whole purpose of this thing. We're supposed to wait until your father… Oh never mind, but you aren't supposed to be done away with… yet. I'm not going to save you, so stop looking at me that way, but I am going to do everything in my power to get your father to come here. That was the plan, and I'm sticking to it best I can."

With that, Prenn conjured a bandage which wrapped about Scorpius's arm.

"Thank you," Scorpius murmured.

"Yeah, well don't go thinking I'm some good guy. Just cause I believe in upholding a promise doesn't make me some heroic Gryffindor type. Besides, even I can tell you're not cut out for this whole thing. I could tell that the minute my mother commanded I watch you at Hogwarts."

"You were watching me at Hogwarts? I've never seen you before," Scorpius turned distrusting.

"Oh course not, I'm a Slytherin. I'm sneaky, just like you're supposed to be. But you're not, and that's what threw me off. I was at the sorting hat ceremony; I was there when you got put in your house. You're a Malfoy so of course everyone assumed you'd go into Slytherin, but you didn't. Instead you ended up in bloody Ravenclaw. What kind of a Malfoy goes into Ravenclaw? Then it got worse. I don't know what your father was thinking when he raised you, but you're no Slytherin. So, you're not cut out for this. It's obvious, but they don't care.

"Listen, kid. Keep a stiff upper lip whatever happens. I'm down here guarding you for a while, but my place'll be taken before long, likely by the other boy you saw earlier. He doesn't go to Hogwarts, so he doesn't have the same conventions about how to act as is ground into us Hogwarts students these days. Just stay quiet, and maybe he won't bother you. If he brings up blood purity, remember you're a pure blood. Since he doesn't go to Hogwarts, he cares about those sorts of things still. Just try to huddle in a corner and don't ask questions. And whatever you do, don't say that I talked to you while I was down here. Like I said, I don't really care what happens to you, but I'm going to save my own skin."

With that, Prenn sat upon a stool and pulled a book from his robes which he proceeded to read. Scorpius eyed the book as he tried to make some sense of his situation.

"So, you sent a message to my father?" Scorpius asked quietly, and Prenn nodded as he kept his eyes on his book. "How?"

"Didn't I say don't ask questions?" Prenn snapped. His eyes were still glued to his book, though Scorpius was pretty sure he was not really reading.

"Sorry," Scorpius murmured. Then with a sigh, he pulled his knees to his chest and chewed on his lip, completely bored. Absently, he rubbed his still aching arm and tried to repeat poetry in his head; at least the poems his mother had read to him kept his mind off the upcoming threat of Killibard.

* * *

"I'll need a Hibiscus root and Ginny could you fetch me a Catharanthus Roseus petal? Ron, don't just stand there, get the claw!"

Harry watched as his friends scurried about the house. Once the decision to help Malfoy had been made a reality, the whole house had gone into an uproar. Hermione was busy brewing while Ginny and Ron ran about and grabbed things from about the house. Harry rather envied their jobs, for it was his place to eventually get Malfoy to drink the concoction. He had a feeling that his work would be cut out for him. Then again, the last time Malfoy had been awake he'd been as weak as a kitten. Perhaps it wouldn't be so hard after all.

"Alright," Hermione spoke, "It's all ready except for…"

She trailed off to the sound of Ron's groan of frustration.

"Are you really going to do it?" Ron asked, and Harry could quite clearly see Hermione's second of hesitation. However, only moments later, she nodded.

Quickly, she pricked her finger and then the potion was ready.

"Wake him up," she commanded Harry. "Come on."

Harry sighed before gently shaking the blonde's shoulder. Feebly, Draco's eyes fluttered open and he glanced over at Harry.

"Come on, sit up. We're going to give you something to drink."

"What is it?" Draco murmured, leaning heavily on Harry as the brunette attempted to get him to lean against the coach.

"It's," Harry hesitated, glancing at his friends. "It'll help you feel better."

"What is it?" Draco demanded again, appearing more awake now, though his voice was still weak. "Is it the antidote?"

"Yes," Harry nodded slowly, and Draco immediately recoiled.

"I'm not drinking it," Draco glared at Harry. "I don't…"

Draco trailed off, and though Harry wasn't sure what Draco was about to say, the blonde looked deciding disgusted.

"Your son is going to be done in if you don't," Ron spoke up harshly. "I mean, fine, whatever, I don't care what you do. Just keep that in mind."

Draco glared at the red head, and then he snatched the cup from Harry, swallowing the potion in three large gulps. Immediately his mouth puckered and he bit down on his tongue in hopes of keeping the potion down. His eyes screwed shut as suddenly his head began to pound and he let go of his tongue just long enough to snarl:

"What is it you've given me?"

"The antidote, right?" Harry glanced at his friends, who nodded. Granted, this was a strange reaction to an antidote, but surely Hermione must have got it right.

Malfoy silently quaked for several seconds, before he seemed to calm down, and slowly his hands dropped from holding his head.

"You alright?" Harry asked slowly, and Draco's eyes blinked open. His gaze shifted around from face to face that surrounded him, and then he silently nodded. For a moment, the sneer that had once been so prominent of the blonde's face shone through, but it dropped away almost immediately as he leaned his tired head against the couch and gently closed his eyes.

"So, do you feel better?" Harry asked, and Draco gave a huge sigh. However, his eyes opened again and he nodded.

"I think it worked, although I still have a headache and my back hurts. Is that a satisfactory answer, Potter?"

"Hey, Malfoy, we just saved your life. I think a little gratitude might be in order," Ron spoke up angrily.

"So you did. I suppose now the curse won't be the end of me. But you know what else? Your m… I mean Granger will be hunted down. You knows fault that is? Mine, because I was stupid enough to come back. You what else, Weasley? My son is still in the hands of some of the most ruthless people in the wizarding world. If anyone knows that, I do. I don't see you and your posse running out there to save him; why would you? He and I were better off with the curse. I don't know why I came back here, I wasn't thinking straight."

Harry glanced at Ron and Hermione before sitting beside Draco. He thought long and hard about what he was about to say and yet what else was there? It was true, nothing had changed except that now the Malfoy father and son were cured from an illness. The curse itself still shadowed them. Scorpius was still in the hands of the Death Eaters, and he was still untraceable. Draco was right, they hadn't really saved him; they'd only prolonged the inevitable, unless of course they continued to help him. Of course, Harry was an auror. It was his job to help people in these sorts of situations; he'd just never dreamed that his childhood enemy would be one of those people.

"Maybe I should just go back to the manor. What else is there to do? I doubt the Ministry would help me, they were mad I wasn't thrown into Azkaban. I'm sure in their mind this is exactly what I deserve. But is this what my son deserves?"

Draco let out a sigh so close to a sob that Harry winced, and then he made up his mind. Summoning his courage, he shook his head.

"Look, Draco," he told the blonde. "We helped you this far, do you honestly think we'd leave off here? It's my job to help people out of trouble, and there is no way I will leave a child in the hands of Death Eaters. If you want to go back to the manor, be my guest, but I'm not giving up and I would hope that you wouldn't give up on your own son."

Draco turned to look at Harry, disbelief filling his eyes.

"You wouldn't help me like that," Draco's voice was skeptical, and yet his eyes told a different story.

"I'm Harry Potter, it's what I do," Harry attempted a joke, though he felt like his humor was lost.

Still, Draco cracked the smallest of smiles and murmured. "Bloody Golden Boy."

"Harry, can I speak to you," Ron's indignant voice shattered the momentary silence, and Harry nodded.

"Ginny, could you get some more soup for him," Harry asked as Ron lead him out of the room, and the slightly shell-shocked ginger nodded before wandering into the kitchen.

"Harry," Ron hissed once they arrived in the next room. "We've already put Hermione in danger by allowing her to help with the cure, who know's what'll happen to her, and now you claim you're going to take on a bunch of supposed Death Eaters? I mean, okay, I'll admit it seems like he isn't lying, but if Draco isn't lying, do you honestly want to put yourself in this kind of danger?"

"I was actually hoping a little bit that you'd help me," Harry admitted.

"Help you help Malfoy? Please," Ron rolled his eyes. However, after studying Harry's face, Ron frowned. "You're serious about this, aren't you?"

"Completely. Besides, who knows who these 'Death Eaters' will attack next. Obviously they are coming out into public a bit by attacking Malfoy. They may be stronger than we'd like to believe."

"Are you going to tell the Ministry?"

"I'm not sure. If we tell them, and there is a spy still there, we may be putting Scorpius into even more danger. Besides, don't you remember what Rose said? Scorpius isn't even in Slytherin; he's in Ravenclaw. Surely that eases your mind a little bit about the kid."

"He's a Malfoy, whatever house he's in. However, I guess what you keep saying is true. He's a kid."

"Will you help me?"

"How do you even plan to go about this, Harry? We can't track the little scorpion, we don't know who these so called Death Eaters are; what leads do we have?"

"We have Malfoy, and somehow I don't think they will want him wandering the world free of the curse. They're going to make a move, Ron, we just have to be ready for when they do."

Suddenly, a chill seemed to overcome the house, and there was a scream from outside.

"Come on," Harry shouted, running out to see Lilly standing with Hugo, both children watching a group of black cloaked figures walking steadily towards the house.

"Harry," Ron spoke slowly. "What do we do? How'd they get through the barriers? Where's the Ministry? Shouldn't they apparate here the minute something sees off?"

"They should, but they're not. Ron, get the kids inside and apparate them somewhere safe along with Malfoy- he's too weak to do any fighting and I don't think we should give him up. The minute they have their hands on Draco could mean the end of Scorpius. Tell Ginny to firecall the ministry right now."

Meanwhile, Harry went about putting a stronger shield around the house. The cloaked people were taking their time, obviously they didn't think there was much hurry which worried Harry even more.

Suddenly Ginny appeared at the door, her face petrified.

"Harry, the Ministry is blocking communication."

"Well," Harry murmured. "Clearly one theory is proven correct: there's a spy in the Ministry."

"Ron was afraid to send Draco alone with the children, so Hermione went with them to Neville's."

"Neville's?" Harry asked incredulously.

"Yes, it was the first safe place that came to his mind."

"Neville's?" Harry repeated. "And Hermione is gone? We don't stand a chance."

"We may not need to. Look," Ron appeared on the doorstep. The 'Death Eaters' were speaking amongst themselves, and then they apparated as one.

"They're gone," Ginny's voice was slightly relieved, though her eyes were worried. Something was wrong.

Harry stood in silence, contemplating this turn of events, and then his stomach dropped.

"We need to get to Neville's now," Harry demanded. "Come on!"

* * *

**AU:** _Oh no! Now what? How did they find Draco, can you figure it out? What do you think of Prenn? Please review and tell me your opinions :)_


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